


A Murder's Daughter

by winterstars



Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-25
Updated: 2014-03-25
Packaged: 2018-01-16 23:38:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1365952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterstars/pseuds/winterstars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tawnypaw runs away for good, but she meets someone at the border.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Murder's Daughter

**Author's Note:**

> Written a few years ago, for a challenge on Warriors Wish forum.

It is raining; huge drops splatter onto the hard earth. Dappled fur flashes through the undergrowth, contrasting with the lush surroundings. Tawnypaw pauses, raising her head to sniff the air. She doesn’t want to be followed; she doesn’t want to be turned away after reaching the point that she has been struggling to get to for so long. As she continues to push her broad shoulders through the ferns words echo through her head; just words, but powerful ones. Her mother’s soft voice telling her what a great warrior her father was… Tigerstar’s evil deeds spoken from the mouth of a handsome ginger tabby… The elders commenting scathingly on how she’s just like her father… She’s sick of it all, the scornful stares, the whispers behind her back, the heritage of her father that seems to hover over her head like the storm that now rages in the skies above. She just wants to be accepted. And if that means she has to visit the lion’s den, the murderer’s clan, so be it. 

Her ears swivel forward as roaring sounds in the distance. The thunderpath. Soon she can see its grey surface through the now sparse trees. Her heart begins to pound as her eyes travel past it, to the dark marshes. To ShadowClan territory. She tries to convince herself that the shivers running down her spine are just from the leaves dripping icy water over her back, but she can’t. She knows she’s about to enter forbidden territory, and she can’t stop herself from remembering all the nursery tales she’s heard about the land beyond the border. 

Lies, she tells herself firmly, it’s all just lies.

She takes a reluctant step forwards, and another, finding her legs are shaking uncontrollably. Mouse-brain, just do it now, this is your only chance! She concentrates hard on all the reasons for leaving, and strength floods through her. She races along the hard, stony surface, her ears flattened against the downpour. As she reaches the middle of the thunderpath, jagged lightning flashes across the gray skies, silhouetting her small figure against the dark forest. Then, panting uncontrollably, she dives down into a muddy ditch.

She crouches down for what seems like an hour, her breathing slowly getting steadier with each passing second, as sticky mud seeps into her soaking wet fur. After several more minutes, she rises to her feet, looking forward to a nice warm bed to rest her aching limbs in. She doesn’t hear the hurried pawsteps issuing from the other side of the border or see the wildly waving shrubs until it’s too late.

“Tawnypaw?”

She is almost as surprised as Ashpaw is, as he steps out of the undergrowth and stares over the thunderpath at her. 

“Tawnypaw?” he mews again, “What are you- oh…” His blue eyes widen with sudden understanding, and his long claws sink into the soft ground beneath his paws. 

“Why?”

She turns away from him, but those deep eyes never leave her pelt.

“Why?” She shouldn’t be able to hear his quiet voice over the loud patter of rain and the rush of the wind. But she does, and she answers it.

“I-I just want to be accepted.” She whispers in a cracked voice, turning to face him once more.

“I accept you, isn’t that enough?”

Her bright green eyes travel slowly over his small frame, and then their gazes meet; his burns with a single question. She knows which answer she wants to chose, but the simple word will not rise to her lips. She has to resort to the truth, the harsh, shameful truth.

“I’m sorry Ashpaw.” She mews; the steadiness of her voice surprises her. “But you’re not enough… I’m going.”

“I won’t let you!” 

“Let Me? Let Me!” Their voices are rising now, clashing with the pounding rain that still falls from the gray skies indifferently.  
Ashpaw doesn’t reply straight away, he just glares at her with those icy eyes. They had once been warm, comforting, like on the night they lay together under the stars. But she had lost them; she had lost all of him.

“Now I can see you for what you really are. You’re just a murderer’s daughter.” He hisses, with his lips curled back in a snarl. Then he’s gone. But his words aren’t. As she turns away with her salty tears mixing with the cold rain, she knows that his accusations, those three words, will stay with her forever…

A Murderer's Daughter.


End file.
